by Jessica Joy
She lets out a choked gasp as I let my eyes drift closed, enjoying her attention for the moment. Her tears must still be flowing because she whispers something, but it sticks in her throat. She tries again, and a single word passes her perfect lips.
“Gage,”
That one word seems to unlock something in my mind, like a beam of light breaking through the fog. Thoughts, memories, images all fill my mind. What starts as a slight trickle quickly turns to a flood, images and feelings rushing through me all at once.
My eyes snap open from where my cheek is still resting in the Fae woman’s palm, but no, not a Fae. Lexi. Tessa’s little sister Lexi, the one I saved from a dirty mechanic’s shop in Seattle.
Tangentially my brain catalogues my surroundings, something I realize I should have done long before now, but I can’t seem to pin down why I didn’t. The scratchy sheets, the uncomfortable fabric against my skin, the alcohol and antiseptic smell filling my nostrils laced with the scent of orange and spice, and the beeping… the incessant beeping of machines.
What the fuck is goin’ on?
Before my molasses clogged brain can process everything, Lexi, who still has her hand on my cheek, leans in toward me. Unsure of what’s happening or what to do, I freeze, waiting to see what will happen. Once again, my mind and body are too slow to react, and her lips are against mine before I realize that was her goal.
I lay there with her lips pressed to mine, like a deer caught in headlights. My stiffness plain as day as Lexi stops the kiss. She pulls away, a look of concern crossing her face, almost as if she’s scared I’ll run from her.
“Gage. Baby, did I hurt you?” she asks as she pulls back.
A twinge of pain lances through me at the loss of her touch, only confusing me more. Closing my eyes for a moment as I try to sort through my racing thoughts and emotions, trying to make sense of anything in all of this. I open my eyes to a sight that pulls at my heart, tears streaming anew from her eyes and I have no clue what I’ve done to hurt this beautiful woman.
“Lexi…” I croak out with a weak rasp. I look around for a glass or something but she’s already pressing a Styrofoam cup into my hand, straw and all. The water is a tepid room temperature but tastes better than a whisky on the rocks by the fire. I half drain the cup before asking, “What’s going on? Where are we? And why are you here?”
Chapter 2
Lexi
Three Weeks Ago
Kiki just might be my favorite person on the goddamn planet. There. I said it. In the three months since I came to the Compound, she’s been one of the few people who has treated me like a normal human and not some fragile china doll already sporting a few cracks. God bless her for her chats, binge nights of Queer Eye (with threats of imminent death via a rusty wooden spoon if I ever reveal her secret love of reality tv) oh, and her booze. She always has booze when I need it and when I don’t, like literally all the time. I love her dearly for all of it.
Why so much booze and cry porn TV, you ask? Let’s review the facts, shall we?
One, my sister’s insane ex-husband, David, held her and her infant son hostage and when she finally got away (without telling me) the asshole sent a group of big asshole bikers to kill my fiancé, and they succeeded.
Two, those same murdering biker assholes then kidnapped me and held me against my will in a nasty ass cell in the back of their mechanic shop for weeks giving me the most god awful Chinese takeout on the planet which I still cannot even smell without a flashback.
Three, my sister (who abandoned me) and her new knight-in-shining-armor showed up with his merry band of asshole bikers and kidnapped me AGAIN and then dragged me to freakin’ Nowheresville, Minnesota. Yes, fine, they call it “rescuing me,” but seriously? Did I ask to come here? Did I ask to live in a fucking adult boy scout camp with a bunch of nasty, smelly, leather clad drunkards? That would be a giant resounding NO. So yeah, it’s kidnapping, with a smile.
Those reasons not enough for you? Oh, I have more. How about the fact that the asshole biker who kidnapped me and dragged me here has now somehow weaseled his smirking Irish ass into my life and my stupid heart and then he left me here while he had to go on some stupid secret mission with his “husband” and their boss. Yeah. I’m stuck here, by myself, while Gage, Sawyer… sorry, Spartan… King, and a truck full of guys with guns run off and seek vengeance on the club in Seattle that helped David. I know I should be grateful; I’m technically part of the reason they’re after the cocksuckers, but all I want is to leave that shit in the past and move on. I didn’t want to be left here to twiddle my thumbs while the menfolk run off to get in some dick measuring contest in the name of revenge.
So, yeah. I have a bit of an attitude about the entire thing. Gage and I have settled into somewhat of a routine that works for us. It’s nothing serious, not yet at least. That freakin’ leprechaun has made no secret of the fact he wants more, but fuck if I’d sign up for being with someone who’s gonna get his Irish ass shot anyway. If I’m honest (thank you Kiki for the shots that have made it impossible to lie to myself at the moment… bitch) the thought of more with Gage makes my heart do this weird little flippy thing, but my sober self is way too dumb to think that’s a good thing, much less his gorgeous ass. Him and his stupid perfect ass, and seriously gorgeous cock, that’s just unfair. Damn that cock. Fuck. Damn it, now I wish he was here so I could take another ride on it…
Wait, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. Whining about Mr. Perfect-Cock running off halfway across the country to play gunslinger with his husband.
That’s another thing. Bethany… I mean, Tessa… fucking Tessa… doesn’t see it and gets pissy every time I mention it, but Gage and Sawyer… SPARTAN… god these men and their stupid nicknames… are one thousand percent in a deeply committed bromance. Kiki agrees with me. The two of them really are so cute together and I can only aspire to find that kind of love someday.
Okay, so maybe those shots Kiki has been feeding me all night are hitting me a tad hard.
Hehehe… hard…
“Bitch did you seriously just giggle at the word ‘hard’?” Kiki laughs from across the bar. I’ve been sitting here avoiding the awkward as fuck gathering going on around me in the common room. Everyone is on edge while the merry band of idiots are gone on their “mission” and have been trying to distract themselves with a half-assed party since tonight is the night the raid is supposed to go down. Hence the drinking and twelve-year-old boy level humor.
“Mmmmmmaybe,” I slur, shooting Keek my most seductive look. Why seductive? Because Fireball said I should.
“Well that just won’t do,” she tsks while pouring another shot and sliding it toward me. I throw it back without hesitation, not entirely sure how many this is now, and honestly not giving a single shit. My big scary Irish biker man left me here. Fireball is my man now. Fireball will never leave me.
“You’re dating fireball now? Good to know Lex,” Keek asks, stroking the bottle seductively back at me.
“Did I say that out loud?” I giggle again, covering my mouth like I can catch any other runaway words trying to escape.
“Fuck yes you did bitch. And I am fuckin’ here for it. If you’re at ‘dating the alcohol’ level, you’re finally ready,” Kiki says with an excited gleam in her eyes.
“Ready for what? And why do you have that crazy look in your eyes? Stop it. I don’t like it,” I slur, awkwardly throwing a paper coaster in her general direction that hits some dude in the patch across the bar.
“To tell momma Kiki your deepest darkest secrets.”
“Ahhh ppffffffttttt,” I sputter, waving her off. “You know everything already. I ain’t got nothin’ else for you, ya slut.”
“Um that’s Ms. Head Slut to you, bitch. And yes, you have told me many, many, things. Some things I will never get out of my brain, so thank you for that.”
“What?! All I said was the oil they use in the christenings works as a decent lube in a pinch!” I say, rather proud of mysel
f for that little nugget of knowledge I was able to impart. Seriously though, if you ever find yourself in a… tight spot… while in a church, find the oil. It’ll do. Just make sure to clean your bits after or else. Found that one out the hard way. You know, they really should teach kids about good hygiene during those awkward once a year health classes. Fifteen-year-old me could have been spared a world of hurt and having to lie to my mom about getting an infection from a hot tub.
Kiki slaps the bar in front of me and draws my attention again. “WOMAN! I didn’t need the story the first time. I most certainly didn’t fuckin need or want it the second time! Fuck, you have no filter when you’re drunk.”
I’m so far gone on the booze train I can’t even muster the wherewithal to blush at my blatant over-share. Oh, well. The more you know. “PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!” I bellow, throwing my head back and leaning back on my stool so the whole common room can hear me.
“Jesus Christ Lex,” Kiki snaps, diving over the bar and grabbing my wrist to keep my drunk ass from toppling backward off the barstool.
“Exactly! Jesus wants you to be well lubricated, Keek! Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Astroglide?” I laugh, over correcting and ending up laying against the bar.
“Well first off, I should have stopped on that last shot. Good to know. And second, we need to talk about your preferences woman, cuz I don’t want to hear about you shoving that astroglide shit anywhere near any of your bits. You need some education on what us younger generations know better to use. I am entirely too picky to let you use your grandma’s lube on your vag,” Kiki says. I watch her fill a water glass for me from the tap as I rest my cheek against the bar, enjoying the feel of the cool wood beneath my face.
I grab at the glass Kiki sets in front of me with clumsy hands, finally managing to wrap my fingers around it. Okay, so maybe I had a teeny tiny bit too much to drink. It only takes three tries for me to get the glass to my lips and take a drink. I’ll consider that a win.
I’m in the process of navigating the cup back to the bar top, which is taking entirely too much concentration, when a loud crash and shouting break out somewhere behind me. Turning to see what the commotion is, I overshoot the motion and fall ass over tea kettle off the stool, landing in a tangled heap of limbs, hair, and drenched in what water was left in the glass. Awesome.
Before I can process which end is up, there are two sets of hands dragging me up from my tangle and to my feet. With bleary eyes I look to my left and right and see Kiki and Roxy each have one of my arms and are holding my drunk ass up. Thankfully they’re both laughing, so that’s something. The last thing I need right now is the Queen Bee and Head Bitch to be pissed at me. Drunk Lexi cannot handle mad people. It makes her cry. And refer to herself in the third person.
“Oh sweetie, you really gotta stop talking,” Roxy laughs, patting my arm.
“I said that out loud again? Fuck,” I curse. Another round of shouting draws our attention again as Tinker the techy comes running into the common room and knocks over one of the high-top tables by the pool table, causing yet another crash. The common room goes silent and all eyes turn to him, the panicked look on his face making the air in the room feel too thin to breathe. Both Roxy and Kiki stiffen, and I prop myself up, sobering with the unease that is coursing through the room.
Doctor Bones rounds the corner from the hall and almost runs into Tinker. Clearly, he was the other voice shouting before because he has the same panicked look as Tinker. They both stand in silence, scanning the room like they’re not sure who they need to talk to first, but Roxy loses her patience and snaps, “Tinker! Bones! One of you spit it out right damn now.”
“The raid… they…” Tinker starts but can’t seem to find the words, his eyes wide and unfocused. I feel myself sobering more and more with each passing second. Something isn’t right.
“Roxy…” Bones starts, but Roxy cuts him off, her hold on my arm tightening.
“Jakob. Kellan. I swear, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, there’ll be hell to pay when King is back,” Roxy all but growls, her nails now digging into my arm.
“That’s just it… King’s dead. And Gage might be too, we’re not sure about him,” Tinker blurts. I see his mouth still moving, and I think Bones is talking too, but I can’t hear anything other than Keek’s muttered, “Shit…” My world goes fuzzy, and not from the booze this time. I’m stone cold sober the instant I hear Gage’s name pass Tinker’s lip. A ringing in my ears is the only thing I can hear as I’m pulled sideways and onto the floor. In stunned shock, I look over and see Roxy on her knees, still clinging to my arm and shaking. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, or at least I think it’s silent, I can’t hear anything but that damn ringing and the sound of Tinker’s voice on repeat.
Gage is dead.
“Not again,” I whisper, the tears finally starting to fall.
* * *
Two Weeks Ago
“I swear to Christ, Sawyer. I don’t care if my sister thinks your dick is magic and you fart sunshine, I will rip your head from your shoulders if you push me on this again. It’s. Not. Happening,” I seethe, not sure if hysterical or furious is a better word for how I feel at the moment; probably both. What I am sure of is that I want to murder the ridiculous biker standing across the room from me. He’s fucking lucky this goddamn hospital bed is between us.
We’ve been having this same argument for six days and I am DONE. Tessa, Evan, and I got the first flight out to Seattle the morning after the raid. I haven’t left Gage’s side since I got here and have been fighting with my sister and the Neanderthal she calls “her man” damn near the entire time.
“I’d like to see you try, Lex. It’s not a question anymore. I’ve humored you for a week, giving you time to come around, but we’re out of time. We need to get out of here. Now. I’m not arguing about this. It’s happening,” Sawyer says, trying to keep his temper in check, but I really couldn’t give a damn right now. He is not winning this fight.
“Sawyer. Gage, your best friend, is in a fucking coma. A COMA. I get you have this savior complex and shit, but will you please stop and think of what’s best for him right now?” I plead, gesturing to Gage’s prone form on the bed between us. The monitors and machines beeping away in the background have become such a norm for me I hear them even on the rare occasion I leave the room.
“I’m aware of that, Lexi,” Sawyer grinds out. “Believe me, this is in his best interest. We need to get out of Seattle. Tonight.”
“What could possibly be so goddamn urgent that we have to move him before he wakes up?”
“It’s Club business,” he snaps, pinning me with his frigid glare.
“Fuck Club business! I don’t give a damn about your stupid fucking Club and their goddamn rules! I am not letting you put his life in jeopardy, AGAIN! If it weren’t for that fucking Club Gage wouldn’t be laying here in this fucking bed!” I snap.
“I’m not the one that did this to him Lex,” Sawyer says, his voice softening with a hint of hurt. “The Club that did this to him is right outside that door; in this town. Given the choice between staying here and knowing they will come for him and the chance that he might get hurt if we move him; moving wins every goddamn time. It’s just not safe in Seattle.”
“I… I get that. So, what, we bring him back to Duluth? The Compound? How the fuck is that any better? I like Bones and all, but he isn’t a full-on fucking doctor!”
“No… We’re going to Chicago.”
“Chicago?! Why the fuck would we take him there? Why the hell can’t we bring him back to Minnesota where you’ve got all those guys with guns if you are so fucking insistent he can’t stay here?” I shout, once again losing all chill at this man’s ridiculousness.
“We can’t go back yet. It’s… Just trust me,” Sawyer says, this time almost looking sheepish. Almost.
What the fuck is he not telling me?
“The big bad biker man is afraid of g
oing home because of a fucking feeling!? Is that seriously what you’re saying right now? You want to move your best friend across the country, while he’s in critical condition, because you have a tummy ache?!” He has to be kidding me with this.
“Lex. I’m not fighting about this. It’s happening. I get you don’t like it, but it’s how it has to be. I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you?! Are you serious? Mr. Criminal Biker who fucking KIDNAPPED ME wants me to trust him. Yeah. I’ll get right on that,” I scoff.
“We fucking rescued you from the assholes who actually kidnapped you, little girl. And yes, you need to trust me, if for no other reason than your sister does, and we went to the ends of the fucking Earth to get you and Evan back. Go pack your shit or I’m leaving you in this godforsaken town. You’ve got 20 minutes.” The finality in Sawyer’s voice brings me up short, it’s a tone I’ve never heard him take before. Looking down at Gage, I stroke his brow to move a few stray pieces of hair back into place. He looks almost peaceful, like he’s only sleeping instead of fighting for his life right now. I feel all the fight drain away. I need to be with this man, no matter what it takes.
“I swear to Christ, Sawyer, if I lose him because of you…”
“I know Lex, I know…” he sighs and for the first time I see the weight of all this resting on his shoulders. He’s kept a stern upper lip for the last six days dealing with the fallout from the raid, Gage’s condition, and losing King, but he has shown nothing but a calm collected facade. Watching as he walks from the room, I see now just how thin that veneer is.
* * *
Ten Minutes Ago
If there is one good thing that has come out of the last three weeks of hell, it’s this...
I love this man.
